


and the rain drips down while the world sinks

by deathlytireddan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Dnp living in a bunker, M/M, Set sometime in the present/near future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2020-07-26 00:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20034655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathlytireddan/pseuds/deathlytireddan
Summary: Phil trips again. Dan is practically dragging Phil along now. He doesn’t know why, but he thinks if he can keep Phil going than he can keep going too.“Wait, wait!” Phil pulls them to a stop, scrabbling at Dan’s arm. He points his phone at a little raised hill with a door sticking out of the side.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of my baby. 
> 
> I can’t promise I’ll update super super frequently, but I’ll try my best!
> 
> Warnings: injuries, thoughts of death (not suicidal), swearing, general terror and everything that comes along with an apocalypse scenario. I’ll update these if anything changes, but that should be it.

They’re running over slippery wet leaves and clumps of moss, trying not to catch their sneakers in protruding tree roots. The cold air hurts Dan’s lungs, the quick in and out of his breaths making him cough. 

It’s Phil that almost falls first, a slippery stone appearing out of nowhere just as Dan’s phone light dies. Dan catches his elbow and pulls him forward, stumbling. 

Dan’s dead phone slides out of his sweaty fingers. They can’t stop for it. There’s no time. The battery on Phil’s was almost in the red before this started. The little beam of light they’re relying on is so fragile. 

“Where-“ Phil gasps for breath. Dan is still unconsciously holding his elbow, he realizes. He slides sticky fingers down until he finds Phil’s hand and grips it tightly, afraid of losing him in the dark if the light goes out. 

Phil trips again. Dan is practically dragging Phil along now. He doesn’t know why, but he thinks if he can keep Phil going than he can keep going too. 

“Wait, wait!” Phil pulls them to a stop, scrabbling at Dan’s arm. He points his phone at a little raised hill with a door sticking out of the side. 

Dan swallows, the sudden idea of safety shocking him. “Okay, okay. Wait.” He makes sure Phil has a good grip on the phone. Phil’s eyes are huge and dark, looking everywhere at once. 

“Hold the light up!” Dan is whispering now. He lets go of Phil’s hand hesitantly, feeling along the wall for _something, anything_. Phil grabs hold of the bottom of his shirt tightly. 

Phil follows Dan around the door until he finds a little keypad, a clear plastic lid covering it. Dan flicks it up. 

A twig snaps loudly. They both jump, heads whipping over, shining the light with shaking hands. It’s only a raccoon. Dan exhales. They haven’t heard anything since the wind picked up and they heard the crackle of thunder in the distant. He’d hoped it would keep them away, keep them from going into the forest. 

Then there are gunshots, close enough to make his ears ring. 

A storm cloud moves, blotting out the little bit of moonlight they’d had and sending a cold breeze over him, chilling his sweat. 

“Dan!” Phil prods his ribs sharply.

“Right, okay, uh-“ The buttons aren’t labeled. He pushes one with an up arrow. Nothing happens. “Fuck!” They’re going to die here, shot up and bleeding out, clawing uselessly at this door. He’s going to have to watch Phil die. 

Phil reaches over and pushes a different button. Dan can’t tell which, but suddenly there’s a mechanical whirring and the door opens with a sharp creek that makes him cringe. There are more gunshots, closer now. They’re both stood, frozen, staring into the dark forest. 

Phil shoves him, the flashlight beam moving wildly with his hand. “Get in!” 

Dan snaps out of it and lurches down the metal steps. It goes down and down and down. The door closes behind them and all he can see are flashes of light from above and Phil’s panting breathes. They reach the bottom and collapse against the wall. Distant rain pounds against the slanted door above them. 

Dan scrubs a shaking hand down his face. Phil drops the phone and pushes into Dan’s chest with a sobbing noise. 

Lights turn on, blindingly white, and he winces, shielding his eyes with a hand. Phil covers his face. 

Dan looks up at the door. Will it open for _them_? Or are they safe? 

“We need to move.” Dan pulls them to their feet. 

Phil heaves a breath. He’s red from running and pale from fright. His fingers twist in Dan’s shirt. “What is this place?” 

It looks modern and white and shiny, like something out of a sci-fi film. Two hallways lead off ahead and another room opens up to the left, looking like a sort of living space. The room they’re in now is like a control room, with big screens and chairs. 

“Come on.” Dan gets them up and in front of the biggest screen. There are words like _lockdown_, _intruders_, and _nuclear_. He clicks on all of them. Immediately the lights switch off, leaving them in total darkness. 

Dan searches for Phil in the darkness wildly. The darkness is choking him. He swears he can hear more gunshots, the sound of the door being wrenched off its hinges and heavy boots on the stairs-

“Dan, Dan, Dan.” Phil grasps his arms and pulls them under a desk. Dan bangs his leg into something sharp and bites his tongue to keep from crying out. 

It’s quiet. 

“Phil?” 

“Shhh.” Phil covers his mouth. Dan squeezes his eyes shut, fingernails digging into Phil’s wrist. 

It’s quiet. 

Eventually Phil uncovers Dan’s mouth and slumps back. 

Dan chokes on a sob. He fingers the tear in his jeans and the wetness underneath. “I’m bleeding,” he says weakly, voice cracking. 

“Fuck. I don’t know where the phone is.” Phil crawls out from under the desk. He fumbles, swearing again. Suddenly there is a beam of light and Phil’s fingers on his cheek. “I’ll turn the lights on and look.” 

Dan nods. 

More blinding light. Dan squints. He scoots out from under the desk and looks at his knee. It isn’t as bad as he thought, when all he could feel was slimy, slippery wet. 

Phil helps him to the bathroom. They clean their sweat off with wet towels and Dan sits on the toilet in his pants, towel around his shoulders, while Phil crouches in front and cleans the cut with some kind of antiseptic spray.

He hisses through his teeth when it sprays into the deepest part. Phil stops immediately, looking up. 

“It’s alright.”

“I’m done, anyway.” Phil rifles through the box of first aid and finds a big sticky bandage. He spreads antibiotic ointment over Dan’s knee and sticks the bandage on clumsily, Dan pressing down on the edges. It’ll do. He won’t die of septicemia. 

“Were there more boxes?” He asks, peering into it. 

“Yeah.” Phil closes it and moves it away, leaning against the sink next to Dan with a small exhale.

They watch each other. They don’t know what to do now. This was a next step, something to accomplish. They’re cleaned off now, Dan is fixed up. 

He shivers in the cool air coming from a vent overhead. “Reckon there’s more clothes?” Or food, he hopes. There must be, if there’s a fully functioning bathroom. 

“I’ll look.” Phil stands up, glad to have something to do. 

Dan limps across the bathroom into the kitchen, looking through cupboards. Every inch is stocked with dehydrated, astronaut-looking food, except one which is full of alcohol. He wonders, for the first time, who made this place and why. Was it just a rich conspiracy theorist or did they know _they_ would be coming. 

Dan downs three glasses of water. He hadn’t even realized how dry his mouth was until his eyes fixed on the tap. 

He sets out more water and two bowls, follows the directions on a bag of something that looks like oatmeal, picked at random. Dan’s hands shake horrible as he mixes. He’s sitting down just as Phil reapears with an armful of clothes. 

“There’s a big store room of everything,” he says excitedly. “We don’t need to worry about food for a while.”

Dan lets out a breath. That’s good news. He feels himself calm a little bit more. They can do this. They can be safe here for a good long while until they know it’s safe, or they’re pried out.

After they dress and eat they leave the dishes in the sink and go to find somewhere to sleep. They don’t know what else to do. The time on Phil’s phone says it’s after midnight. There isn’t any cell service, but Dan isn’t sure he’d want to call if there was. He doesn’t want to know who is gone. 

“Over here,” Phil calls. 

There’s a hallway with a row of little bedrooms with bunk beds. It looks sparse and military. Dan looks at Phil with his lip between his teeth. He can’t sleep alone. 

Wordlessly, Phil takes the mattresses off two bunk beds and lays them next to each other on the floor. Dan lays down a small mountain of blankets and they huddle together. Their makeshift bed takes up most of the room, the head and foot pressed against the wall. He doesn’t mind. Being able to see everything in the room is good.

-

They’re awake a long time. 

Dan stays with his back against the wall, picking at the black polish on his nails. Every little sound from the bunker’s machinery makes him jump. Phil is curled up next to his hip, eyes closed but his breathing isn’t right, too quick and shallow. 

Dan smooths Phil’s hair back from his face. 

“Lay down,” Phil says. 

Dan shakes his head 

There’s a few kitchen knives sitting on the bare bunk bed next to them. It’s the only sort of weapons they have. 

His knee throbs. 

“Please.” Phil looks up with watery eyes. 

Dan slides down. He doesn’t feel real. How can any of this be real? 

He holds onto Phil numbly, staring at the closed door over Phil’s shoulder. Their arms are tight around each other, entangled. He focuses on the way Phil breathes, the few freckles at eye level. 

If they come in, could he get to a knife in time? What good would it even do? 

He hides his face in Phil’s neck.

-

Morning breaks cold and painful. Every bit of Dan’s body aches, his jaw most of all from how tight he’s been clenching his teeth. His stomach feels empty and tense.

Phil is in bed next to him, knees pulled up to his chest, phone in hand. 

“What time is it?” Dan rubs his eyes, trying to clear his blurry vision. The skin around them feels raw and achey. 

“I don’t know,” Phil whispers. His voice breaks. 

Dan sits up. The screen is black. He takes the phone gently and tries to turn it on. It won’t. 

“Phil?” He asks, hesitant. 

Phil rubs his eyes. They’re bloodshot. Dan suddenly remembers Phil’s contacts, and his glasses. Shit.

“Do you have your glasses?” He vaguely remembers Phil taking them with him to the restaurant, before. 

“What? Oh. Yeah.” Phil gestures to the bunk bed. They’re sitting there, next to the knives. “Had them in my pocket. I don’t know how they didn’t break.” He shrugs. 

“Good.” Dan exhales. He sets the phone down. “What happened?”

Phil shakes his head. “I got service, for a minute, near the stairs.” Dan didn’t even hear him get up? “I tried calling Kath.”

Oh. Dan’s heart jumps. No, no, nonononono. 

“She didn’t answer. But Martyn did.” 

Nononononono.

“She was shot, Dan.” Phil is staring at his hands. “He doesn’t know if she’ll be okay. They’re going somewhere, in a ship. The government ordered it.” Phil covers his face. “For the...the survivors.”

_Somewhere in a ship._ Dan thinks of running out of the bunker, finding the this ship. But how could they? He sags. 

Phil is still talking. “I couldn’t hear everything, but - but they don’t know where they’re going or w - when they can talk again. And now my phone is dead, Dan.” His shoulders shake. 

Dan holds him silently. They’re alone, in enemy territory, fifty feet below ground.


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: more detailed descriptions of Dan’s injury, and thoughts/talking of death (not suicidal).

Dan is cleaning his knee. 

It’s bleeding slightly at the edges, and it hurts more today, but there’s no sign of infection. He smears on more antibiotic ointment and puts on another sticky bandage. It burns, pressing on his knee. Everything seems to hurt more this morning. Maybe it’s the shock wearing off; the realization settling into his skin. 

He wipes under his armpits and then looks himself over in the mirror. There are little bruises scattered around his torso, his legs, from falling over or running into trees. A few scrapes near the worst ones. He hadn’t noticed them before. Clumsy Phil probably looks worse. 

Phil is figuring out some kind of breakfast, or maybe he’s done now and is staring at his phone the way he’s been doing. 

Dan pulls a shirt on and a hoodie over it. He pulls on socks, too, practical and boring white. Nothing like the ones at home. He has to resist putting on shoes, too, just in case they have to make a run for it. 

He splashes water on his face and makes his way into the kitchen with a slight limp. 

Phil is sitting, nose in a steaming mug, fogging up his glasses. There’s no phone in sight. Dan hopes that’s good. He needs Phil to be functional, as awful as it feels to think that. 

He sits down. There’s a mushy _something_ in the bowl, with dried berries. He has a steaming mug, too. It smells minty up close. 

Dan doesn’t know how to speak. His mouth feels glued shut. 

The only sound comes from the slight humming of the bunker around them and Phil’s mechanical chewing. Dan pokes at the mush. 

Phil breaks the oppressive silence first. “There’s all kinds of vitamins in the very back,” he says, careful and steady. “It’s like everything is arranged by necessity.” Dan nods slowly. The vitamins are for the very end, when they don’t have anything else of nutritional value. 

“Okay.” 

Dan looks down at the dried berries with newfound understanding. He eats the mush. 

-

There are all sorts of manuals and guides and paperwork for the bunker. From what they can piece together it looks like someone very rich had it built. The names are all blacked out in sharpie. 

Dan doesn’t care much about that. Phil lingers over them, brows together, but Dan is more concerned with keeping the bunker running. 

He’ll need to change filters and clean tubes and possibly replace things. There’s a whole other layer to this place, inside the walls, that will need maintained. 

Dan is so fucking relieved. He’ll have something to do, other than stare at these walls and try not to go insane, or eat Phil, or something. 

But there’s only so long he can try to figure out how this place works. It looks like the  
elaborate computer has some sort of reminder system set up, so he isn’t too worried about forgetting to replace an air filter and suffocating them. He sits back in the chair and rubs under his eyes. 

Phil is somewhere out of Dan’s sight. His knee aches, a kind of dull throbbing that isn’t enough to complain about but hovers at the edge of his mind, never letting him go. 

What now? What do they _do_? 

There’s a creaking sound to the left. Dan startles and looks over quickly. It’s only Phil’s chair moving. His arms are crossed on the other desk, head down on them. Dan can’t see his face, or the rise and fall of his shoulders. 

_Phil isn’t moving._

Dan jumps up, knocking the chair over with a bang. It seems to echo over and over inside his head, rising into a crescendo.

Phil gasps at the noise and stands, wobbles, catches himself on the desk. “What? What?” His eyes are bleary. He was only sleeping. 

Dan trembles. He shakes his head and moves slowly backward. “Nothing.” It’s barely even a whisper. “Nothing.” 

Phil takes a step forward. 

“No! No. Get some rest.” Dan waves vaguely, still backing away. His hands are shaking, words sounding warped and fuzzy coming out of his mouth. “I’m - fine.”

-

Dan can’t breathe. He’s got his head between his knees. His whole body seems to be vibrating, shaking with the effort of keeping in his sobs. He thinks of his mum, everything they’ve done to repair their relationship. His brother, whose barely done anything with his future yet. 

The future. _Phil_, and what they’ll never have now. It’s selfish and stupid and they’re fucking lucky to be in this bunker at all, instead of rounded up and - whatever happened to the country, maybe the world. Except Phil’s family, because they’re on a ship going somewhere far, far away. 

Dan doesn’t know how to get out. He can’t get out. He’s buried alive, drowning under hundreds of cubic feet of dirt and mud and whatever else is above them right now. 

“Dan! Dan, Dan, Dan. Dan, please breathe.” 

He takes a huge shuddering breathe. Phil wipes his face and pulls Dan into his chest. When did Phil show up? He’d been sleeping, until Dan freaked out. Stupid, stupid. 

“Come on, breathe with me.” Phil’s voice is so gentle. Dan can feel the warm body behind him shaking, the hands around his waist clenching and unclenching. 

He pulls in another lungful of air. 

“There, keep - keep doing that.” Phil’s voice breaks.

Dan turns around and puts his arms around Phil’s neck, breathing into his neck. He smells like unscented soap and the strange, metallic smell of the bunker, but it’s Phil and he’s here and he isn’t dead. 

“T - t - thought you were dead.” 

Phil’s face crumples. “No! I’m here!” He squeezes for emphasis. “We’re going to be okay, Dan. This can’t last forever. We’ll be here for now until it’s safe again.”

Dan doesn’t argue. He wants to believe that. He thinks for now he can, even if safety only means the next week. 

He nods, breathes, wipes his face with his sleeve. “Okay.” More tears come. “I love you so much, Phil.”

It’s Phil’s turn to cry while Dan holds him, then. 

-

They sleep for a long time. Dan doesn’t know what time it is or if it’s even the same day when he finally wakes up, eyes cloudy and sore. 

The lights are dimmed, changed from the harsh cold light to a warm honey one. It looks hazy and strange. Phil is sitting up in bed next to him with an iPad in his lap. It echoes the last time he’d woken up, with Phil in this same position. 

Dan shifts. His knee hurts. A lot. He starts to move the blanket to look, frowning in confusion. 

“Oh, you’re awake.” Phil sounds strangely okay. He kisses Dan’s temple and sets the iPad down. “I found this and added it to the computer system.” He brushes Dan’s hair back, making a face. “You need a shower. You’re all sweaty and hot.”

“Yeah,” Dan agrees, only half listening. His knee throbs with every beat of his sinking heart. Something is very wrong. 

“I’ll go do that.” He returns the kiss quickly and pushes himself up and away before Phil can see him grit his teeth. Ever step hurts worse than the last. Fuck. He wobbles down the hall, hoping Phil can’t see him leaning on the walls.

He closes the bathroom door behind himself and leans against it, panting. His shirt is stuck to his skin. He pulls it off and wipes his face, hobbling to the toilet. Tears gather from the pain. “Fuck, Jesus.” 

He sits heavily and pulls his sweats off awkwardly. Yellowy pus has leaked through the bandage. Dan stares down at it numbly. 

“Dan?” Phil calls from outside the door.

Dan peels off the bandage. It burns and aches and above it all is that horrible throbbing. Underneath his skin is red and leaking yellowy and it looks bad. He touches the very edge of the wound. It’s hot, like a sunburn. 

“Dan?” Phil knocks. “Are you okay?”

Bizarrely, Dan wants to laugh. This is just the cherry on top of the goddamn cake, this is. Of course he couldn’t escape an infection and probably dying from sepsis. What’s Phil going to do down here, all alone, maybe for years?

“Dan?” Phil sounds panicked now. “I’m coming in. Too bad if you’re naked, or something.”

Dan watches the door open, watches Phil’s eyes scan him and the room quickly, watches him settle on the disgusting knee, watches his shoulders slump but his jaw set at the same time. 

Phil knees in front of him, takes his hands. Dan feels a little bit hysterical. “We’re going to take care of this. I’m going to take care of you.” 

Dan can only nod. Phil helps him up and out of his pants, into one of the shower stalls. He cleans out the wound carefully, getting all of the new pus off. Underneath there’s a layer of it caked onto his skin. Dan swallows. 

It hurts so bad. He bites his fist and doesn’t look at Phil until it’s over and his legs are shaking with the effort of not crawling away. Phil takes off his clothes and washes them both, getting all the disgusting sweat off of Dan, while he just sits in the bottom of the shower, staring at his knee. 

“I don’t want to die, Phil.”

“Don’t - don’t say that.” 

“I can’t leave you here.” 

“You aren’t going to! I’m not going to let you.” 

Dan just wants to sleep. 

Phil wraps them up in towels and sits Dan back on the toilet, brings him water and what Dan can only assume are antibiotics and then wraps up the cut carefully, with a whole roll of gauze and too much tape. It feels better, cushioned like that. He can’t really bend his knee, even if he wanted to.

“We should take my temperature,” he says. He feels more alert now. All the sweating had probably dehydrated him.

Phil shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

Dan doesn’t argue. He eats and drinks two more glasses of water, still on the toilet, then uses it and gets into bed after Phil changes the bedding. 

“We could’ve just used another bed,” Dan points out from under a mountain of blankets, two hot water bottles tucked in next to him, and a fan blowing on him gently from the doorway. Dan doesn’t know where Phil found any of this stuff. He’s too tired to ask.

“No, this is our room now,” Phil says firmly. He says it like _home_ or maybe that’s Dan’s subconscious creeping in, telling him what he doesn’t want to hear. This can’t be home. 

“Okay,” Dan whispers. 

Dan sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel a little guilty putting this version of dnp through so much when our version seems so good right now. Sorry! 
> 
> [reblog on tumblr](https://mylionbabe.tumblr.com/post/187128643945/and-the-rain-drips-down-while-the-world-sinks-part)


	3. Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would've been done ages ago but I've just been staring at it...and staring...and staring some more...until I finally realized it's fine as it is. *thumbs up*

_The grass is soft under Dan’s palms. He runs his fingers over it, through it. _

_“You’re like a cat in a pile of catnip!” Phil says around a giggle and a bite of his sandwich. _

_Dan rolls his eyes. “Chew your food.” He watches a little grasshopper jump over his foot and head toward the woods._

_“I’ll chew your mum,” Phil singsongs. Then, “please eat so we can have dessert. C’mon! Stop fondling the grass, or whatever.”_

_“Oh my god.” Dan takes out his sandwich container. “I’m so sorry for enjoying the moment.” He opens the container dramatically and flings the lid behind him, shoving half the sandwich into his mouth. _

_Phil giggles again. It’s Dan’s favorite sound in the whole world. “Just enjoy me more than the grass next time.” _

_Dan chews and swallows, scoots across the picnic blanket to him. “I’m enjoying you plenty.” He means to wink, but it comes out as a smile._

_Phil’s eyes soften. He puts his arm around Dan’s waist and leans on his shoulder. Dan kisses the top of his head where his hair is starting to droop a little. _

_“This was a good idea,” Phil says after a long, calm minute.   
“Yeah?” _

_“Yeah. Just me and you for the weekend. And this is cute.” He gestures to the little blanket and picnic basket their hotel offered. It is cute. The classic red and white colors and picnic food, and the soft, soft grass._

_Dan sighs. “Reckon I’ll just stay here forever.”_

_“Mmm.” _

“No, no, no. Stop.” Dan pushes away the hand trying to push something into his mouth. 

“Dan, you need to take these!” 

Dan’s eyes seem glued shut, refusing to open and see the harsh light that makes his head pound worse and his stomach feel sicker.   
He feels hot and cold at the same time, sweat dripping off of him and soaking the blankets, but he just can’t seem to get warm. 

“Jus’...jus’...I’m cold.” His eyes tear up. Why won’t Phil let him sleep? “Cuddle, please. Please.”

“Oh, Dan.” Perfectly cold hands hold his face and a cold mouth kisses his forehead. He whines when they move away and the pills come back. “Just swallow these and a few sips of water, and we can cuddle. Please, Dan.”

Dan gives in and swallows the pills. They burn going down. He settles back against the bed with a groan. “Cuddle?”

The blankets shift and the cold hands are back with a cold, wet cloth on his overheated skin. “I’m right here, babe.” 

Dan holds onto the bottom of Phil’s shirt and squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Get some rest, please, baby.” 

Baby.

“Phil.” Dan opens his eyes wide, frowning against the horrible light and his churning stomach. 

“Shhh.” He smooths Dan’s hair down. “You need sleep.”

Dan closes his eyes obediently, all the fight leaving as soon as it had arrived. “Sorry, baby,” he mumbles. “Sorry.” His eyes slip shut. 

_Dessert turns out to be a whole assortment of frosted cookies. Phil eats too many and makes himself sick, of course. Still, they don’t want to go back to the hotel and leave this, because that will mean being one step closer to ending this perfect weekend. _

_“We should do this more often,” Dan says, slowly putting their empty containers away. _

_Phil nods. “Brighton next time.” _

_Dan grins. “Brighton.” _

_His phone starts blaring, a horrible, grating alarm. A second later Phil’s starts, and then distantly some sort of siren going off.   
Dan’s blood goes cold. “What - what is that.”_

_Phil grips his hand. Dan picks up his phone. He doesn’t want to look. _

_He doesn’t have to, because suddenly there’s a group of people coming out of the forest, running. “Get out of here!” A man yells. “Get out! They’re coming!”_

_They’re running toward a car. Dan stands and pulls Phil up with him. “Can we -“ he starts to say, but the group is already smashing through a window in the car. A woman holding a baby climbs in first, looking frantic. _

_Then they’re gone. _

_Dan looks at Phil. He’s white as a sheet. They look to their phones, but the message is gone. There’s nothing. _

_“We need to go,” Phil says, pointing to the forest behind them. “The hotel is closer that way.”_

_“Okay.”_

_They start running. _

Dan wakes up in starts and stops. First he becomes aware of his body, how disgusting his skin feels coated in layers of old sweat and dirty sheets. The inside of his mouth tastes awful. Then the aches and pains. His joints ache, every muscle feels tight with knots. 

But he's awake. 

He's alive.

Phil?

He cracks his eyes open. The light is dim and only hurts a little. He tries to sit up and immediately falls back, a wave of dizziness crashing down over him. 

"Shit," he croaks.

The blankets shift and Phil's face appears, pale, circles darker than Dan's ever seen around his eyes. They look at each other. 

Phil moves first, pushing his face into Dan's stomach with a gasp and a sob. 

"It's okay." His throat hurts, feels dry as paper. "Water?" 

Phil pulls himself up and wipes his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Here." He picks a water bottle up from somewhere holds it to Dan's cracked lips. 

Dan drinks it all and collapses back into the sheets. Phil is looking at him like he's a ghost, or a corpse, already in the ground. 

Dan finds his hand and holds it weakly. "How...how long?" 

Phil leans against the wall next to Dan, staring at their hands. Dan’s fingers don’t want to grip, but Phil is holding on tight enough. "Too long."

"Oh."

Dan doesn't know what he could possibly say to that. Phil looks...empty. 

"I love you. I'm sorry. I don't know - I don't know. Fuck, what is happening, Phil? I don't know." 

Phil slides under the disgusting, disgusting blankets and curls into Dan. "Do you need anything?"  
More water, food, a bath. 

Dan shakes his head. "Sleep. Let's sleep." 

\- 

Dan recovers in starts and stops, too. He can't walk for a day, but Phil cleans him up with a wet towel as much as he can. The bedding is changed, thank god. When he can finally stand, on shaking, wobbling legs, Phil cries again. He's not spoken much. Dan doesn't know what there is to say, anyway.

Reality has set in. Dan spends his recovery reading about the bunker, looking through the computer system in bed on the iPad and at the desk when he feels up to it. Life feels like a dream, a nightmare, a fog he can't see a way out of. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D
> 
> I'm sorry, I just like making them suffer. Better things next chapter probably!


	4. Part IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for losing weight (not because of an eating disorder), and accidentally taking too much medicine in the past. Again, neither are deliberate. If you need more information feel feel to message me or send an ask on tumblr (linked below).
> 
> Special thanks to the anon on tumblr who asked if I was planing on continuing this, and gave me a lot of much needed motivation <3
> 
> Also, because I realized this midway through writing this chapter and got sad - this story is set BEFORE they get Norman. No abandonded Normans here.

_One month later:_

Dan feels a lot how his knee looks. Pink, freshly scarred over, still tender at the edges. 

He catches a glance at it sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, and thinks he sees red lines of infection traveling toward his heart, until he blinks and it’s just a new scar, with a tired, weak knee underneath it.

There’s a tired, weak human attached to it, too.

His stomach is tired and weak also, ruined by the sickness and the antibiotics. Phil isn’t a doctor and the little bottles didn’t have a lot of instructions on them. It’s better than dying, but he can’t stomach much without it hurting, so he becomes all clumsy, pointy elbows and knees, like he hasn’t been since he was a teenager. 

(Neither of them have much of an appetite for different reasons. Dan’s is medical. Phil’s rests in a drawer, proof of the last conversation he had with someone from his family in it.)

He feels Phil’s fingers tracing over his bumpy spine at night, senses the worry without having to open his eyes. He swallows lumpy oatmeal, dehydrated fruit, other little concoctions Phil pushes at him.

Dan puts metal spoons in the fridge until they’re cold and sets them on Phil’s swollen, exhausted eyes. Dan makes them walk in circles for a mile, two miles, around the bunker.

They hold each other together. 

-

“Phil!” Dan yells down the stairs. “Did y’get it?”

There’s no reply for a minute. 

Dan touches the rubber seal around the door. It’s hard to imagine there’s anything out there, just inches away; his world has become Phil and the bunker, it’s white walls and floors, it’s hallways and their mattress on the floor. 

Phil appears, thundering up the steps. 

“Graceful.”

Phil just rolls his eyes and passes over the sensor, a few steps below Dan. Where Dan is obsessed with the door, Phil avoids it.

Dan tears off a bit of tape with his teeth and sticks it to the device, reaches up to the ceiling and pressed it down firmly. 

There isn’t a point in it, Dan thinks. Where could they possible go if the only exit is blocked? But Phil wakes multiple times a night, stumbling to the bottom of the stairs to check, and so Dan had rigged the motion sensor to the alarms today, desperate to just make Phil sleep.

He still hates it, the idea of those panicked seconds when the alarm is going and there’s no one there yet but - 

Phil is more important. 

Dan presses the button to turn it on. The world turns red and alarms scream out, sharp and ringing. 

Phil claps his hands over his ears, glaring. 

Dan manuevers passed Phil on the stairs, wincing when his knee moves at an awkward angle. Phil follows, hands still over his ears, squinting in the harsh red lighting.

Dan taps at the keyboard frantically until it stops. His ears ring in the sudden quiet. He blows out a breath. “Oops?”

Phil pushes at him, looking annoyed and fond at the same time. “You idiot. God!” He rubs at an ear. 

Phil acts like this isn’t all for him, but he knows perfectly well. Dan is okay with pretending. 

Privately, he thinks Phil is also glad to keep Dan away from the door. He wouldn’t ever open it, not while Phil still breathed air, but Phil likes sure and stready reassurances. 

“I said sorry,” Dan pouts, to see Phil smile. 

Phil groans and whines but he’s holding in giggles, tongue poking out. 

Sometimes they’ll have these little moments, and Dan will forge they’re even here, and why. He sees Phil’s amused eyes, the crinkles at the edges, his special _Dan is being an idiot _smile on. 

The truth comes back. The bunker, the world. He smiles thinly, brushing over Phil’s elbow as he passes, a silent apology. 

Phil lets him go, for a second, and then follows. “Cuddle?” He still sounds happy, even as he switches over to a gentler tone, and Dan wishes he could keep that happiness forever, cupped in his palm like something tangible he can see and remind himself of.

The hardest part of all of this, besides family, is realizing they don’t have to be miserable all the time. That they’re _allowed_ happiness, even trapped in this place. To make the best of things. To love each other. 

Dan’s shoulder’s slump. He nods. Phil kisses his cheek and takes his hand.

Dan is pulled into their tiny room, his shirt pulled over his head, a few stay, steadying kisses dropped onto his skin. Phil maneuvers them under the blankets, squeezed into an octopus embrace. 

He taps on a tablet for a second, switching the lights into night mode, a dark, dark blue, almost black, but still enough to see the edge of things.

It’s only the afternoon, but time and sleep schedules don’t matter much here. 

Dan breathes. This feels like the only remotely safe space in the whole place. Phil is nearly on top of him, like a funny weighted blanket. Dan feels his eyes drift closed, perpetually exhausted as they always are. Phil tucks his head down and yawns. 

“I love you. I’m glad you’re here with me, if we have to be here at all.”

That sends Dan’s heart into a frenzy. He does his best to stay still, not squish Phil in his arms, tape his eyelids open so he can always make sure Phil is there.

He takes a careful breath in, and out. Phil is nearly asleep, eyelashes brushing over the deep, deep bruises there. 

He can’t imagine what he’d do without Phil here, all alone. Worse, even, is having to think of Phil alone up there. Dan knows he himself would probably be able to survive longer, maybe, not in an egotistical way but practically. He chews into his lip. Phil alone, up there, without Dan. 

Or Dan trapped up there, while Phil loses his mind down here. 

“Dan, hey. You’re practically vibrating.” Phil lifts his head off the pillow, touching Dan’s cheek. It’s wet. “What’s wrong?” 

Dan sniffs. “What isn’t wrong?” He squeezes into Phil. “You need to sleep.”

“So do you. But we have plenty of time.” 

Dan knows that tone. Phil won’t stop pestering until he speaks. “I was thinking. If - if we weren’t here.” He closes his eyes. Even through the antiseptic smelling soap he can smell Phil’s unique scent. His body is firm and close and he’s wearing the t shirt he was wearing when they arrived, soft and familiar against Dan’s bare skin. 

Phil kisses him, quick and surprising. They haven’t done that much in the last month. It’s mostly been careful, tender kisses, comforting _I’m here’s_ and _I know’s_. But Phil kisses hard, crushing their mouths together intently, purposefully. 

Dan whines, leaning into it. Phil laces their fingers. “We need a proper routine,” he says between them, breath hot.

Dan would rather keep up this kissing, but he leans a bit away to listen. 

“No more sleeping at random times, or not eating.” Phil gives him a poke. “We need a routine.” 

Dan agrees, but he’s not above teasing Phil a little. Joy is seeping back into him. _We’re allowed to be happy._ “Is sex a part of that routine, then?” 

“Yes. We’ll make some rules tomorrow.” 

“That sounds familiar.” 

Phil hums, looking at nothing. Thinking of the past, probably. 

A different set of rules had been made, years and years ago in a different place, miles and miles away. It might as well have been a different universe, when that Dan needed those rules. Now this Dan needs them too.

“Okay,” he agrees. “We’ll make some rules.” 

Phil kisses him again, then slides under the blankets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter! Please let me know what you think - I’m nervous to be posting after so long and it feels a little rusty.
> 
> [reblog this chapter on tumblr](https://mylionbabe.tumblr.com/post/189475324890/and-the-rain-drips-down-while-the-world-sinks-part)

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: I’ve decided not to continue with this for the foreseeable future, as COVID-19 and staying at home don’t really inspire me to want to write about being stuck in a bunker. I do hope to finish this some day, but not right now. Thank you all so much for your comments/kudos, it means a great deal. <3 <3 
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this! Please let me know if you did :)
> 
> [reblog on tumblr](https://mylionbabe.tumblr.com/post/186643214720/and-the-rain-drips-down-while-the-world-sinks)


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